


Almost Six

by slow-smiles (the_irish_mayhem)



Series: My Princess, My Pirate [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Captain Duckling, Established Relationship, F/M, Porn With Plot, Rough Sex, Smut, this is me taking pot shots at abusive captain duckling tropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 14:25:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16369298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_irish_mayhem/pseuds/slow-smiles
Summary: Killian sneaks out of the castle before he’s caught and waits for Emma to join him on his ship. Captain Duckling. A followup to My Princess, My Pirate. My first contribution to @cscocktoberfest.





	Almost Six

When Emma leaves him in her room, Killian briefly entertains the idea of laying out on her bed naked and waiting for her to return. Realistically, however, he knows this would only lead to disaster; despite it being her private chambers, it would hardly stay empty for the duration of the ball. There were always preparations to be made for the princess, preparing her bedclothes, turning down her bed, cleaning, and other such manner of domestic tasks done by hired help that Killian had never been privy to.

His usual entrance and exit routes had not been usable (Emma had given him a key to enter the servant passages, the ones she herself used to sneak in and out of the castle, but with a royal ball in full swing, they would hardly be a discreet way to travel this evening.)

He certainly didn’t fancy himself much of a climber, but the rough stone and thick vines across Emma’s wing of the palace certainly lent themselves well enough for the task.

(He makes a note to mention to her that they should do something about the vines--and really, about the castle protection in general. It would be entirely too easy for someone with nefarious intentions to sneak in.)

He makes his way carefully back to his ship. It’s still relatively early, the sun having not yet fully set, but towards the harbor district the sounds of revelry are already rising. He imagines his crew must already be among those out and about. He’d given them several days of shore leave, and they’d had some excellent hauls in the last few months, so their pockets were heavy and their spirits high.

The only man left aboard the Jolly is Smee, unsurprisingly. Never been a traditional pirate, Smee. Is always one to volunteer to stay with the ship when others want to go out and spend their winnings on wine and bed partners, and no one really knows what he does with his shore leave when Killian forces him off the ship.

“Captain!” his first mate calls out. “I didn’t expect you back so early.”

Killian says, “I already got exactly what I needed. The rest of the evening is entirely yours, Mr. Smee.”

“Are you sure? Do you need anything else?”

“I’m quite certain I’ll be able to handle my own ship by meself.”

“If--if you insist, Captain.”

Killian gives him a look. “I do. At least go get yourself some hot food and a bed at an inn.”

Nodding sharply, Smee doesn’t take long to vacate the ship, leaving Killian on his own in the blessed silence. Being alone has always been his natural state, and the quiet is a welcome part of that trait.

However, he would not complain if there was a certain raucous blonde stirring up trouble with him at the moment, silence be damned.

He tried to not think about all the probably handsome, witty, rich eligible bachelors that would be presented to her on a silver platter over the course of the evening.

It isn’t that Killian doubts Emma’s feelings for him. On the contrary, he knows exactly how selectively Emma gives her love, and he is a damned grateful recipient.  The only thing Killian has doubts about is his worthiness of her, and that’s a subject he’d rather not dwell on when he’s alone with rum in easy reaching distance.

Instead, he retires to his cabin and undresses for the evening, removing his long coat and vest, shucking the pants and finally making his way through the series of buckles that secure his hook to his arm. The contraption runs up his arm and over his shoulder, making an X across his back and looping around his right shoulder. There are calloused lines left behind on his skin as he removes the hook and all its trappings, two-hundred something years in the making.

He intends to read and update his logs, perhaps knock out a few navigational equations he’d hit snags with earlier in the day, but not long after he settles back in his bunk with a logbook in hand, the pull of sleep becomes too much to resist.

* * *

 

Killian is a naturally light sleeper, but the sound of Emma’s loud swearing could’ve awoken even the dead. He sits up immediately and sees her bent over just at the base of the ladder.

“Son of a fucking bastard. Gods bloody damnation--”

“Emma?”

“I stubbed my toe,” she grinds out between clenched teeth. “Fucking hell, that hurt. I should’ve worn shoes, gods damn it.”

His drowsiness begins to wane as he smiles at her. “If only the common people could hear their great and powerful sovereign now.”

Emma finally stands fully, wiggling her foot around a bit. She’s clearly disguised, with an overcoat thrown over her nightgown and her hair hidden under one of those ridiculous bonnets she hates wearing. Even with the sour expression because of her toe and the outfit, she’s still the most beautiful woman in all the realms, and he tells her so.

She smiles softly in response. “It’s nice to hear someone genuinely say that to me.” She begins to undress herself, shrugging out of her overcoat with a slowness that looks more born of exhaustion than seduction.

“I don’t think anyone could say that to you and not be genuine about it, darling, because it’s more of a fact than an opinion.”

She laughs softly. “I know what you think,” she says, basically tearing the bonnet off her head and letting her hair spill free. “Ugh, burn this,” she says under her breath before throwing it on the floor. She then reaches down for the hem of her gown. “I just had to hear a lot of people say it without really meaning it tonight.”

No matter how many times he’s seen her without clothing over the years of their relationship, the sight of Emma’s naked body will always be at least a little arresting. The soft, pale skin so often hidden under gowns finally free to the air, the pink nipples stiffening in the slight chill of his cabin, the way her long hair brushes over her breasts and obscuring them like the mermaids of legend, the thatch of dark blonde curls between her legs where she was wet and wanting him mere hours ago.

“I know I promised you a dance,” she says, “but can it wait until morning? I’m exhausted and my brain is absolutely fried, and I just want to hold you for a while.”

He holds out a hand in invitation, nudging over on the narrow bed so that she has room to fit next to him. “I’d wait forever for you,” he says, purposefully dramatic to put another smile on her lips.

She crawls in next to him, and the feel of her skin against his is as reassuring as it is intoxicating; but Emma’s not the only one who’s knackered. She wordlessly nudges at his shoulder, encouraging him to turn his back to her. He follows her gentle, tired instruction, and her arm wraps around his waist under his arm. He takes her hand in his and brings it up to his lips for a kiss before letting himself relax.

He feels her breath at the base of his neck, and she presses a small kiss there. “I love you,” she says softly.

“And I, you.”

With Emma surrounding him, it’s a simple matter to fall back into sleep.

* * *

 

He awakens with the feeling of a hand on his cock. The light through the windows is soft, grey with the promise of dawn, and it’s just light enough for him to turn his head to look at Emma, still behind him. She’s risen up on one elbow, propping her up so that she has a better angle to stroke him and can look down on him. The blankets have been since kicked down to the end of the bed, but he doesn’t feel the chill with the heat of arousal skittering over his body.

“Morning,” she says casually.

“Morning,” he responds, not as casually.

He turns slightly so that he can more easily look up at her and reaches up to pull her down for a kiss. She obliges, running her tongue boldly along the seam of his lips before he opens for her.

Her strokes on his cock become more impatient, quicker and firmer, and he’s nearly rock hard already.

“How much time do we have?” he gasps out, starting to work his hips with the timing of her hand.

“I’m not needed at all this morning, and I gave instructions to not disturb me. One of my ladies’ maids is sleeping in my bed as a stand in just in case.” She twists her hand over the head of his cock just so, and his breath catches in his throat, and he lets it out a moment later through gritted teeth. “I have time to do whatever I want to you.”

He moans softly again. “To me?” He turned fully so that he lay on his back. “What about what I want to do to you?”

Emma quirks a brow before, quicker than a blink, she swoops down and settles herself between his legs. Both of her hands run up his thighs and she leans down, her mouth just above his cock. “You can wait your turn.”

With that she runs her tongue from base to tip, pulling an ungodly groan from his lips. “Emma,” he breathes, and he runs his hand through her hair before resting at the back of her head. She moans around him in response.

She takes him as deep as she can, the warm wet of her mouth moving up and down his shaft, and her hand comes up to stroke what she can’t fit in.

Pleasure sings across his skin and up his spine, and senseless words of praise tumble from his mouth. To have the Crown Princess of Misthaven with her hand and mouth on him is something truly bewildering and wonderful to behold, but it’s also Emma. It’s the witty, stunning, clever, stubborn woman who trusts him enough to do this with him, trusts him enough to let him into this intimacy, and wants him enough that she’ll do this for him. The idea that she could want and love him enough to devote herself to the task of pleasuring him is mind-boggling and more of a turn on than anything he’d experienced previous.

“Love you so much,” he stutters out, trying in vain to keep his hips still. He has enough control to prevent him from thrusting down her throat, but his hips still twitch upwards on each of her downstrokes.

He can’t take his eyes off her, and every so often she’ll look up and meet his gaze.

She’s perfection personified and he still doesn’t know how he got so lucky. How that night at the tavern when he simply wanted to make sure a woman was safe from drunken louts had turned into this. Had turned into one of the best things that had ever happened to him.

Emma pulls off of him, sitting up and shifting so that her sex is directly over his. Before he has a chance to say anything, she sinks down on him and sighs.

“Let me just--” she says and leans forward, resting her body against his. “Let me just enjoy this for a second.” She nuzzles her face into the side of his neck, arms coming under his shoulders to embrace him as much as she can whilst he’s on his back.

He shifts to return the favor, surprised but not disappointed at the sudden change in pace. With the way she woke him up, he’d imagined something quick and dirty; perhaps she’d have sucked him off to completion, swallowed his release down. He’d have returned the favor, tasting her exquisite cunt until she’d come so hard she couldn’t walk straight.

“Are you all right?” he whispers.

She shifts a little, but doesn’t lift her head. “Yeah.” She sighs. “No.”

He’d had a feeling there was something amiss. After he’d left her the night before, she’d been playful, joking. Light. When she came to bed later that evening, the earlier lightness was gone, replaced by something more somber.

“Did something else happen at the ball?”

Emma straightens so that she can rest her hands on his chest. “Are you really trying to have a serious conversation while you’re inside me?”

Killian runs his hand along her hip and down her flank. “I can tell something is bothering you, and it’s bothering you enough that you don’t want to tell me about it.”

Emma moves her hips a little bit, a gentle rocking motion that’s a tease of what’s to come. Her breath comes a little quicker, her eyes sliding shut a moment before opening again.

She seems to try to find a good start to a sentence, and frankly he’s proud that she can think at all when the little motions of her hips are making it hard for him to concentrate on anything except her.

“Before I tell you,” she says, seeming to come to a decision, “I want you to fuck me really, really hard, okay?”

His brow furrows, confusion clouding his arousal somewhat. “Emma--”

She seals off his lips with a deep kiss; he returns it, but it doesn’t erase his concern.

“I promise I’ll tell you,” she says a breath away from his mouth, “but I want to forget for a while.”

He searches her eyes, nothing but honesty burning there. So he obliges and grasps the back of her head and pulls her mouth down to his. Their kiss can’t be described as anything but aggressive, wide mouths and sweeping tongues, teeth clicking inelegantly but neither of them seem to care.

If she wants fast and hard, he can deliver.

He sits up against her, holding her backside in his hand. It’s a bit of a hassle to switch positions in the narrow bunk, but he manages it. He pushes his hips up, and leverages himself on his wrist and twists them. Emma lands on her back with a short huff of a laugh, and he regretfully slips out of her. He settles back between her thighs, reared back on his knees so he can look down at her. His eyes travel from her face down to her core, swollen, pink, and wet.

His fingers run through her folds, and she moans softly and further parts her legs for him. He focuses on her clit without much teasing, rubbing across it in short, quick motions that have her getting louder in moments.

He dips down further, feeling the moisture gathering at her entrance, spreading it up and back to her clit.

“Fuck,” she whispers, “Killian.”

“If you want it fast and hard,” he growls, “then we need to get you ready for me first.”

She groans deeply at that, a drawn out please escaping her, back arching upwards and pushing her breasts towards him. He continues swiping over her clit with his thumb and presses two fingers inside her.

He doesn’t give her much time to adjust, her wetness making it easy to begin thrusting with his hand in earnest. The slick sound of her pussy wrapped around his fingers makes him absolutely ache with the desire to be inside of her. He adds a third finger then, gets as deep as he can get them, and begins to move his hand up and down, pressing towards that one spot deep inside her that makes her scream.

Only a few pumps of his hand and he can tell he’s found it; her eyes snap open, her thighs tense, and her sounds become louder, more drawn out. “Gods, there,” she gasps.

His balls tighten at her words, his cock so hard it fucking hurts to not be inside of her.

She presses closer to him, and he bears down, moving his hand up and down as fast as he can muster. It’s hard to maintain pressure on her clit with his thumb when he fucks her like this, so he reaches underneath her undulating hips with his left arm, pulling her hips off the bed far enough so that he can bend down and take her clit in his mouth.

He doesn’t bother with licking and teasing, but fastens his lips to her like a man starved and sucks as hard as he can.

Emma’s orgasms are always a sight to behold. She doesn’t quite scream, but her cry is loud and hoarse, and her core clenches around his fingers like a vise. “That’s it love,” he praises against her core, “come all over my fingers.”

He lets her hips fall back to the bed, still working his fingers at a steady pace inside her, and realizes in that moment exactly how he wants to fuck her.

He withdraws his hand with a sound of protest from Emma, and steps off to the side of the bunk. (They’d learned early in their courtship that it was the exact right height for him to fuck her on.) He hooks an elbow around her knee, repositioning her so that her ass nearly hangs off the side, putting her in perfect position for him to sink into her.

He can barely hold back his groan at how wet and warm she is, how perfect and beautiful. “Gods, Emma. Nothing in this world compares to being inside you.”

“I love you,” she replies, and Killian is hit once more with how lucky he is.

Before he begins, he lifts one of her knees over his shoulder, spreading her wide open for him.

Then he goes. She’s so wet and relaxed from her orgasm that there’s no resistance as he pounds into her at a pace that would certainly leave bruises on both of them. The sounds of their coupling echo in his cabin, the slapping of skin and the wet suck of her welcoming him into her body again and again and their combined moans creating a lewd symphony.

“Fuck,” Emma cries, “don’t stop.”

“Not on your life, princess.”

He’s on the edge faster than he’d like, but he can tell Emma is too. She clenches sporadically around him, one of her hands grips the sheets in a white-knuckled grip, and the other has settled on his arm, her nails pressing none-too-gently into his skin.

“Are you close, love?” he still asks.

“Yes.”

“Touch yourself.”

Her hand that was fisted in the sheet immediately darts to her core; he can’t help but watch her fingers as they seek out her clit and rub quick, tight circles over it. He can feel her clamp down on him as she pleasures herself, and he was hoping to make sure she’d come again before he did, but he’s a hapless victim to her siren song.

His hips stutter, his hard rhythm faltering. “Fuck, love, I’m--” He comes inside her, pressing deep a handful more times before he comes back down. Emma drops her leg from his shoulder, boneless.

“Did you peak again?” he asks.

She nods. “Your face is gorgeous when you come,” she explains.

He pulls out of her with a slight wince and walks over on unsteady legs to the small pail of water and grabs a washcloth from the cabinet. He cleans himself briskly, and moves to do the same for Emma.

When they’re both as clean as they can be after vigorous lovemaking, they lie back down on the bunk, curled under the previously abandoned covers.

“What happened last night, Emma?”

Her head is resting on his chest, and she tilts her gaze up to look him in the eye. “It was…” She sighs and removes herself from his embrace, sitting up and leaning her back against the pillows, and Killian follows suit.

“I received no less than three marriage proposals and seven courtship proposals,” she says, and even though he knows she loves him, he knows exactly how painstaking it was for her to get to this point in their relationship, it still makes his breath catch, a brief flare of panic rise in his chest. “Hardly uncommon but… I don’t know. It was just different, yesterday.

“My parents are starting to push harder about me finding someone. And it’s not like they’re cruel about it. They want me to marry for love just as they did.”

“I gathered as much from what your father said last night,” Killian says.

Emma nods. “It’s not like I have difficulty rebuffing them. It was just something my mom said to me.

“I’d just turned down the last courtship proposal of the evening, and she pulled me off to the side and said something like love isn’t weakness, it’s strength, and wanting to be loved isn’t bad, opening myself up to the possibility is brave and so on and so forth. And I don’t know what it was about last night, because she’s given me that same talk dozens of times over my adult life, but I suddenly just wanted to scream at her I know! I’ve known for years how it feels to love and be loved because I’ve had you.”

Warmth flares in his heart.

Emma takes a breath. “What I’m trying to say is that I’m tired of hiding. I’m tired of you being a secret. I don’t know how we’ll make it work, I don’t know what my parents will say when they find out I’ve been consorting with a pirate for the last five years--”

“Almost six,” he corrects, mostly absent-mindedly because his mind is now spinning.

She grins and rolls her eyes. “Almost six,” she agrees. “But I know I’m asking a lot. I’ve thought about getting you on contract as a privateer for the crown, and then delivering a naval commission so that our match would be less objectionable for the court, but--” she takes his hand in hers, staring into his eyes with as much seriousness as he’s ever seen on her. “I don’t want to push you into anything and honestly, I’d give up my status as heir and take up a life of piracy if it meant having you by my side.”

It isn’t easy to render Killian Jones speechless, but Emma’s managed to do just that.

“You want to tell your parents about us?” he finally manages.

“Yes. I don’t have a single clue what they’ll say or do, but I’m tired of living my life like I don’t love you with everything I have in me.”

He leans in and kisses her, trying to gather his thoughts. When he pulls away, he asks, “So we probably don’t tell them we’ve already consummated our relationship, correct?”

Emma snorts and flicks his ear. “Remember how I said last night there was a chance you get executed if you were caught?”

“You’d protect me,” he answers.

“Of course I would, but I get my stubbornness from somewhere and believe me, my father doesn’t take kindly to people he feels have taken advantage of me.”

He raises a brow. “Oh, taken advantage of the princess, have I?”

She rolls her eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“I’d say not, because as I recall, it’s been you taking advantage of me all these years.”

“I’m about to rescind my offer,” Emma says, tauntingly moving as though she’ll get out of bed.

“No need,” Killian says. “I’ll be on my absolute best behavior. And no matter what happens,” he tugs at her hand, “I’ll be right there with you.”


End file.
